An Unlikely Tree
by Sargent Snarky
Summary: Tseng’s mother has died, and when he returns home for her funeral, he discovers a box of her old letters and diaries. He is at once astounded and made somewhat queasy as, at last, he discovers whom his father is.
1. Prologue

**Title**: An Unlikely Tree

**Summary**: Tseng's mother has died, and when he returns home for her funeral, he discovers a box of her old letters and diaries. He is at once astounded and made somewhat queasy as, at last, he discovers whom his father is.

**Rating**: T for profanity & adult themes

**Disclaimer 1: **If I owned the Final Fantasy compilation and all characters therein, Cait Sith's giant stuffed moogle would appear in Advent Children. That moogle pwns!

**Disclaimer 2:** Credit goes to leafonthebreeze of Genesis Award for the idea that spawned this fic. I shan't say what that idea is for risk of spoiling this story. Just know that without her, this story would not exist in the slightest.

**A/N:** This is for all y'all at Genesis Awards! While technically this is AU, I tried to keep it as close to canon as possible – though, as usual, I liberally ignored most of the compilation beyond the original game…

My apologies if the Turks seem out of character. I tried my best, but this is the first time I've ever written any of the Turks. Any suggestions would be appreciated!

**Note on the Timeline**: Because the FF7 timeline is rather confusing, and there are many dates that are left relatively open (as in, there's a range of years various events /could/ have taken place, but not a specific date), I've gone ahead and employed the timeline found at ff7citadel dot com, for the most part. While it may not seem immediately relevant, trust me when I say that it is. If you have any questions and don't feel like looking up the timeline yourself, feel free to ask in a review or something.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Twitchy as always when he was bored, Reno shifted in his seat and rested his elbow on the table, cheek braced against knuckles. His eyes traveled from the clock on the wall to the back of the glowing "Open" sign in the window to Yuffie pouring drinks at the bar to the open doorway to the kitchen, in which Tifa was busy cooking to the other scattered patrons, and then his eyes repeated the cycle, while his body shifted from one sprawling position to another every minute or so. 

Rude, meanwhile, remained relatively still and impassive, sighing occasionally at his partner's inability to sit still. Perhaps the man even rolled his eyes; if this was so, however, it was impossible to tell behind the sunglasses.

At last, overcome by his frustrations, Reno threw his head back and lifted his hands into the air, letting out a prolonged and overdramatic cry. "What the hell is taking them so long?" he demanded, glaring at Rude and letting his hands thud to the table, causing his beer to slosh in his glass.

Rude responded neither vocally nor physically; he was well aware that Reno was simply letting off steam and didn't feel the need to encourage him.

Reno curled his fingers into fists and banged the table, again. "Honestly! For a guy who's so fucking anal about getting reports in on time and never being late to briefings, you'd think he'd make more of an effort to _be on time_ to his own birthday… thing!"

After pausing to quaff more of his alcohol, Reno opened his mouth to continue but cut himself off as the door opened and lent forward, eager to pounce on his superior officer. However, it was not to be, for Elena, instead, entered. She glanced over to them, nodded in greeting and proceeded to hold open the door for… not Tseng (to Reno's disappointment), but Rufus. The man limped a little – he'd never fully recovered from injuries sustained during Meteor-fall or from the deterioration of his health due to Geostimga – but he looked hale enough to endure a few drinks. A smirk lingered briefly on his lips as he joined the Turks at their table; Elena followed close behind.

"Tseng won't be coming," Rufus informed them.

Reno's jaw dropped open, but his surprise was quickly replaced with outrage. "Wh-what! Why? That bastard…!"

Rufus sighed and, resting his arms on the table, steepled his fingers. "His mother died –"

"He has a mother?!" Reno's eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Of course he has a mother, asshole," said Elena, rolling her eyes. "What, did you think he just spawned out of a rock or something?"

"No! I ah… well… yes," answered Reno, his cheeks coloring faintly as he scowled at the younger woman, who snorted with laughter; even Rude chuckled.

Rufus simply rolled his eyes as his lips twisted up at the corners. "If I could continue…?" Upon receiving no protests, he did so. "As I was saying, Tseng's mother died yesterday afternoon, and he's returned home for a few days for her funeral."

"Unfortunate timing," said Rude.

Reno couldn't help but nod in agreement. "Shit…" For a moment, he was at a loss for words. Then, shaking his head, he looked up at Rufus, again. "When will he be back?"

Rufus could only shrug. "Whenever his affairs are in order." Signally this to be the end of this line of conversation, he turned his attention to Yuffie, who'd wandered over at this time and now crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.

&&&&&&&&&

It was with great reluctance that Tseng returned home. He'd been quite happy to leave it years ago, and he'd never looked back. Now, though, staring at the wooden door before him, the door to his mother's home, he was forced to do so, to look back and relive scattered memories of his childhood and adolescence. Neither of them had been particularly unhappy, but they had been dull and lonely. Tseng had always been a somewhat aloof child, a trifle shy, but mostly just preferring to keep his own company or the company of his best friend. Perhaps he would have been fonder of boyish pursuits and less reserved if he'd had a father figure to look up to and emulate, but no such man had existed. True, his mother had seen other men at times, gone out on a few dates and maybe flirted a bit, but nothing ever came of these overtures, and Tseng had more or less ignored them.

He and his mother had been relatively close, but the subject of fathers had ever driven a wedge between them. Tseng had ever pleaded (often demanded) to know whom his father had been – and more than merely the man's name: Everything from hair color to personality, shoe size to place of origin. However, the most he'd ever gotten from his mother had been a brief, unhelpful description of looks (tall, pale with black hair and intense eyes; she remembered them as being brown, but in the light they had a reddish tinge) and, once, the man's profession: Turk. Whenever Tseng had pressed for more, she had simply ignored his inquiries and moved on to other things.

Tseng wasn't even sure if they'd been married or if it was just a fling that had produced him. He knew his mother went by her maiden name, as did he, but that proved nothing. If his father had died or abandoned her or something of that nature, it stood to reason that she might have been too pained to live on with his surname as a reminder. Or, perhaps Tseng was simply coming up with excuses, reasons why to stall for time before actually entering the house.

Steeling himself, the Turk shook his head and reached forward, knocking. A minute later, his mother's next-door neighbor answered the door, and Tseng entered. He held his breath.

* * *

**A/N**: Chapter 1 picks up a few days later, when Tseng returns. Parts of his experiences before, during and after his mother's wake, funeral and burial will be told, but not the entirety and not right away – just so you know. 

Regarding Yuffie's job: She lost a bet with Tifa and has to work at Tifa's bar until Tifa finds some better help. Needless to say, Tifa isn't trying very hard to acquire another worker. The only reason I am explaining it now is I may or may not forget to explain it later on in the story. ;)

Chapter 1 should be up tomorrow, if I have time to upload it.

By the way, you should all check out Genesis Awards, as it is a wonderful, amazing Final Fantasy 7 forum. See Pied Flycatcher's profile for more details.

Thank you!

-Snarky


	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: An Unlikely Tree

**Summary**: Tseng's mother has died, and when he returns home for her funeral, he discovers a box of her old letters and diaries. He is at once astounded and made somewhat queasy as, at last, he discovers whom his father is.

**Rating**: T for profanity & adult themes

**Disclaimer: **If I owned the Final Fantasy compilation and all characters therein, Vincent would have transformed into the bunny from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. That thing is scarier than Chaos, Galian Beast, Hellmasker and Death Gigas combined. The only thing scarier would be if Sephiroth wore pink.

**A/N**: This chapter picks up several days later.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

With its usually cheerful jingle, the door swung open, and both Reno and Elena looked up to behold Tseng. Grins splayed across their faces, and Reno lifted an arm to wave. However, other than a brief nod in their direction, Tseng ignored them. Instead, he scanned the bar until he located the object of his search: A tall, thin shadow of a man, lurking in the dimmest corner. 

Reno, Elena and Rude exchanged looks of anxious surprise before turning their attention to their superior, who, with a serious and uncertain yet determined look in his eyes, strode over to that corner booth. Tseng stood over the man within and fixed him with a stern gaze.

"You and I need to talk, Vincent Valentine," he stated, soft and demanding, brooking no argument.

The man in the booth simply looked up, languid and unimpressed. With lifted eyebrow, Vincent gestured to the unoccupied seat across from him. "Then sit and talk." His voice was toneless.

Tseng shook his head. "Not out here."

Vincent's eyes glinted with faint amusement. "Whatever is so important that it cannot be discussed here? Something you don't want others to know?" And then the eyes flicked to the other Turks and back, questioning.

Tseng inclined his head slightly.

Vincent took a sip of hid drink. "If you speak softly, they won't hear. Or, if you know Wutian, you could speak that, and they'd be none the wiser."

"You're not Wutian."

"Blood is no barrier to language. Sit. Discuss whatever it is you must discuss."

With reluctance and a sigh, Tseng slid onto the booth seat across from Vincent. The Turk sat straight but lent forward, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. For several moments, he remained silent, simply observing Vincent. Then, at long last, he broke the silence.

"Look, this is an awkward subject, and I see no point in beating around the bush."

There was a pause, but Vincent merely gazed at Tseng, expression betraying nothing, not even faint interest. Undeterred, Tseng continued, still business-like.

"I have very good reason to believe that you and I are related."

Another pause; Vincent lifted an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes. "… Related."

"Yes. My mother died a few days ago, and as I was sorting through her things, I came across an interesting diary from the year I was conceived and born. Naturally, since she never divulged who my father was, I took an interest and read it. Based on what I read, I have come to the conclusion that you… well, you are… my father."

Tseng kept his fingers clasped tightly and watched the man across from him carefully, warily; the Turk was ready for a reaction of any sort. He was surprised, therefore, when Vincent did not move, didn't even blink. His red eyes remained fixed upon Tseng, still narrowed, and the eyebrow still raised. Vincent remained silent for a long while, and Tseng remained tense, anticipatory.

"… I see," was all that Vincent said, in the end. His metal claws twitched, flexing and un-flexing almost nervously, while his fingers remained curled about the handle of his glass.

The silence stretched on for another long while before, again, Vincent, eyebrows now furrowing, broke it: "Are you… certain?"

"Yes." Tseng nodded.

Vincent's eyes at last shifted from the Turk over to the tables, skimming across the barroom and resting briefly on Reno, Elena and Rude, then on Yuffie, who was watching curiously, irked at the fact that she had to make drinks instead of being able to sneak over and eavesdrop. The ex-Turk's gaze returned to Tseng, and he drained the last of his drink, letting the glass thud back onto the tabletop.

"… you are right. This would be better discussed elsewhere."

Tseng blinked, frowning.

"Cloud isn't home, so the office upstairs should be empty," said Vincent as he rose and turned, leading the way and simply expecting Tseng to follow through the kitchen and up the staircase with only a brief word to Tifa about making sure they were undisturbed; she nodded and waved them off and returned, humming some catchy tune off the radio, to her cooking.

Tseng closed the door of the office behind him, not bothering to lock it, as Vincent lent against one of the bookshelves, watching. A heavy, awkward silence filled the room for several minutes while Tseng sat in a chair and Vincent crossed his arms across his chest.

"I'm afraid, given the noise level down there, that I did not hear you correctly," stated Vincent.

Tseng, again, blinked; it still was not the reaction he'd expected, though, frankly, he wasn't sure himself what he'd expected. "No, I believe you did," he said. "I have good reason to believe that you are my father."

Though his stoic mask remained mostly in place, uncertainty and incredulity were evident in Vincent's eyes and in his voice, as he asked, "And… what is this reason? This journal you spoke of… where is it?"

"Here," said Tseng, reaching into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulling the diary out; it was a plain brown book with a name and two dates scratched onto the cover with a pen, but Vincent couldn't see the name as Tseng's thumb covered it. "Take it, and read it yourself, if you must."

Vincent slowly took the journal and turned it so that he could read the name and date. Only once he had read both did his eyes widen and his shoulders stiffen. Staring at the cover, he inquired, "Your mother was Sari Kundar?"

Tseng nodded. "Yes." His dark brown eyes narrowed faintly. "You did know her, then?"

"… yes. Once."

Expecting Vincent to continue, Tseng waited for several moments. However, the taller man only looked distant, lost in thought. So, the Turk cleared his throat. Vincent glanced over, then shook his head.

"I must… think for a while." Abruptly, he stood up straight and strode to the door. With his hand on the handle, he added, "I will speak with you… tomorrow. Not here. In the old church with the flowers, where we will be undisturbed."

Then, before Tseng could reply or lodge a protest, the older man was gone in a sweep of the tatty red cape and clunk as the door shut behind him. Tseng remained frozen for a moment, his mouth open. Then, he closed it, shook his head and stood up. After casting an eye over the office, he left it, as well. When he returned to the bar room, however, there was no Vincent in sight – only Reno, Rude and Elena watching eagerly for their superior's return, a few other patrons and Yuffie having an arm wrestling contest with some strong-man.

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A/N: Yes, yes, I know it's an unlikely scenario, but I wanted to write it, so there. The hows, whys and wherefores shall be explained in future chapters.I would appreciate any and all comments, criticism, etc. Thank you! 


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